


Everything Was Terrible

by devil_in_a_halo



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Death, Emotions, Funerals, M/M, Religious Imagery, White Flowers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-13 21:44:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14756855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devil_in_a_halo/pseuds/devil_in_a_halo
Summary: Because eventually it would be okay, but right now, right here, in the back of the car holding one hand instead of two, everything was terrible.





	Everything Was Terrible

**Author's Note:**

> After a huge hiatus, sorry, I am back with some angst.

The flowers were beautiful. They were white, he couldn’t remember now what type they were. There was a vase of them every few feet. The vases were clear with clear glass rocks holding up the stems of the white flowers. Light filtered in through the tall church windows. He stared up at depictions of Jesus Christ and The Virgin Mary. The stain glass cutting them up into small colorful pieces. That’s how he felt, cut up into small pieces.

 

It had been ten years. Ten long, hard, amazing years that he would give anything to live again and again. Anything to relive that first kiss, with soft hairs tickling his nose and his heart beating in his throat. Anything to hear ‘I love you’ just one more time. Feel soft, warm skin under his hands. See brilliant eyes light up and shine with a million new ideas. Hold the weight of a sleeping man as he tucks him into bed. Just one more god damn time. How could ten years have gone so fast?

 

For the first time looking up at Mary gave him no peace. He felt the full weight of gravity on his shoulders, hands, knees, head. Everything pulling him down toward the center of the Earth. He wanted to curl in a ball and never speak again. But everyone wanted an answer. What flower? What color? How many? Who? Where? When? How? It all made him want to scream. Scream until his lungs collapsed and everything stopped being so god damn loud.

 

Tony was dead. Tony was fucking dead and this time nothing was bringing him back. No car batteries or inventing new elements could save him. He could survive bombs, fire, falling out of a fucking wormhole, but he couldn’t live forever.

 

He cried out but his god wasn’t answering. Just a few more minutes, seconds, kisses. One more chance to hold Tony close and beg forgiveness.

 

A metal hand slipped into his. He and Bucky hadn’t talked in days, maybe weeks. He couldn’t stand to look at any reminder of the mechanic. Just the feeling of metal against his palm forced him to remember hours of watching Tony in the lab painstakingly work on Bucky’s arm. Hunched over with magnification glasses and precision tools. God Tony’s glasses. That had been the first sign, looking back. Slowly his sharp charming eyes had a pair of smart looking glasses framing them. He was so beautiful.

 

The hand and the man attached to it pulled him down the aisle of flower vases. The coffin was a dark cherry wood. Tony looked peaceful, as peaceful as the genius ever looked. Something inside him broke while he stood there looking at Tony’s lifeless body. He crumbled. Falling to his knees he let out a heartbreaking sob. Bucky dropped to the floor as well and held him close. Every muscle in his body felt heavy. He was suffocating. His ribs cracked under the pressure. A bubbling heat filled his stomach and chest. He wanted to scream and cry and hurt. How could he live without him? He wanted to blame someone, hate someone, for Tony’s death. Who could he blame?

 

Slowly, ever so slowly, he climbed to his feet and walked over to the podium. Because he was who he was he had to say a few words, even if his life was crumbling around his ears.

 

“Anthony Stark. He –” His voice cracked, “I love him. Tony was the best man, the greatest man I have ever known. When we first met we hated each other. But, getting to know him, the real him, was the most amazing thing that ever happened to me. Tony was so loving and caring. I -” He reached for Bucky’s hand, “I love him.”

 

He and Bucky locked eyes before switching places. They were still holding hands when Bucky opened his mouth to speak.

 

“Tony fixed me. When everyone was doing everything to mix my head, he fixed my body. I could never forget everything he did for me. He was never afraid. Of me, of my past. He took everything head-on. He- he was amazing like that.”

 

More people spoke but everything was hazy around the edges. It was like a white noise machine in the back of his head. He couldn’t look at Tony’s pale, lifeless, fragile body again. The image was seared into his mind forever. His heartbeat pulsed behind his eyes.

 

Oh god. He was dead. Tony was dead. He wouldn’t be there in his lab to tinker away into the night. To come up in the afternoon to chug coffee. To give him dazzling smiles that made his insides feel like mush. He could never hug, hold, kiss, touch, smile at, stand next to, Tony ever again. He would never see Tony’s endless brown eyes again.

 

Tony was gone and he would never get him back.

 

He walked out of the church doors to the car waiting just a few yards away. He could hear the shutter clicks of cameras and the hum of a million questions.

 

“Mr. Rogers!”

“Captain America!”

“Captain Rogers!”

“Mr. Rogers!”

“Care to make a statement Mr. Rogers?”

 

He slid across the leather seat of the car, tilted his head back against the rest, and closed his eyes. In the soundless black void of his mind, he felt an unsettling calm wash over him. Everything relaxed. The last few days fell away. Tony’s gone. He was free to mourn in the peace of his apartment.

 

“Stevie?”

 

Right. Bucky. What was he going to do? They were together till the end of the line but he was at the end of his rope. “Yeah, Buck?”

 

“Please don’t shut me out.”

 

He looked over at Bucky for the first time in weeks. Really looked. The soldier was just as crumpled was he was. Same heavy undereye bags and sad eyes. He reached out his hand and grabbed Bucky’s; He held it tightly and brought it to his lips. He moved to scratch at Bucky’s four-day unshaved scruff. Bucky rubbed his face into his hand. Finally feeling tethered to land instead of wading lost at sea.

 

Their kiss was soft and brief. A gentle reminder ‘I’m here, I’m with you, I love you.’

 

Because eventually it would be okay, but right now, right here, in the back of the car holding one hand instead of two, everything was terrible.

**Author's Note:**

> Please! I beg of you! Leave a comment and tell me what you think. I'm open to suggestions but plz don't be mean, I am soft.


End file.
